


Truth in smoke

by sloganeer



Series: selling_out [9]
Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-06-07
Updated: 2003-06-07
Packaged: 2017-10-09 09:51:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/85890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sloganeer/pseuds/sloganeer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's decided, then.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Truth in smoke

**Author's Note:**

> ljuser=bexless asked (repeatedly) for the origin of the band.

Astrid is the last to arrive. She knocks, waiting for someone to let her in. It's Ethan's room, so Clark and Thomas let him get up and open the door. Astrid smiles down at Clark, looking more than a little nervous. Ethan holds his arm out, welcoming her with a flourish. She doesn't move.

Clark pushes up onto his elbows. "You in or out?"

She's in, and with a few tentative steps, she's in the room as well.

Clark shifts over, but there really isn't room for her on the floor. Instead, Astrid pushes Ethan's clean laundry aside and makes herself a seat. Pulling her legs up under her, Astrid gets comfortable on Ethan's bed while Ethan returns to his spot on the floor.

"OK, this is it, folks," Ethan says, breaking the uncommon silence. Clark thought they should have music playing when they make the decision, but Ethan didn't want anything to taint the moment. He didn't want to risk listening to a band he could hate tomorrow. Thomas suggested The Beatles - "Timeless," he argued - but Ethan wanted only their own 'sound' in his memory. Their 'sound' as filtered through marijuana, actually.

He holds up two fingers and Thomas passes the joint over, the second of the night. Ethan keeps saying it's the 'good stuff'. It even has a fancy name, but Clark can't remember it; the first sign he's had all night that maybe this stuff works on him after all. Thomas is the lightweight, falling asleep between them, his eyes closed, humming to himself.

"That our first single?" Clark asks.

Thomas chuckles, Ethan giggles, and Astrid gives him the only genuine laugh in the room, then reaches for the joint from Ethan.

"You cool?" he asks, pulling his hand away suddenly.

"I have older brothers. I've been cool since I was fourteen."

Her first hit is long; even Clark's impressed. She holds the smoke deep in her lungs and Clark lets his vision switch to watch it travel through her, up and out. She hangs onto the joint and takes another drag.

"OK, this is it, folks," Ethan says again. He's been saying it all night, before they started rolling even. Actually, if Clark's honest with himself, Ethan's been saying it since they met. The first time they had lunch in the cafeteria together Ethan said he was singer and that he was going to be famous, and Clark hated it. Because you don't tell strangers secrets like that, and Clark knows why. It didn't take him long to realise that Ethan didn't consider anyone a stranger. He only sees potential.

The joint gets passed back down the line to Clark, who takes the last drag. It's the one trick he allows himself: smoking roaches without a clip. He used to do this other one with a lighter, but Ethan started taking bets and Clark had to stop.

He's blinking away the smoke and trying to figure out if he's stoned when Ethan speaks up.

"It's decided, then."

Thomas, always the first to go, nods wildly, before falling into a beat.

"Is it? I mean, we don't even have a name," says Astrid, leaning over the edge of his bed.

"Names come later." Ethan waves his hand in the air, like brushing aside the whole world for a moment. "Astrid." He points. "You kick ass on the drums, not just as a girl. And when--"

"No." She's not stoned and she catches on quickly.

"When," Ethan continues, "we get a microphone in front of you, we get something even better. Plus, you get us the straight boy vote, and probably a few lesbians, too."

"Jesus, Ethan." Clark pulls himself up to sit against the other bed.

"What? You don't think it's important? You and me, we get into the gay clubs as well, and, boom! We just doubled our venues."

"I'm not gay," Thomas announces, his eyes still closed.

Ethan pats him on the stomach. "I know, buddy. I still love you, though."

Thomas nods, mumbling to himself.

"And Thomas gets us the straight girls. I could handle a few myself, I suppose..."

"Music, Ethan?"

"Oh, we'll definitely have some of that."

"Ethan..." Clark lets out a long sigh.

Ethan rolls over and up, reaching for a pack of cigarettes on his desk. "You're getting better and better every day, Clark. Trust me."

Clark hands him the lighter and watches Ethan take a drag off his cigarette. Ethan stares at him, turning away only to exhale the smoke. Clark nods.

"Yes! Clark's in. Astrid?"

She holds up a hand for Ethan to slap.

"Astrid's in. Thomas?" Ethan kicks the foot that's still wearing a shoe. "Feel like pissing off your parents again?"

Sitting up on his elbows, Thomas blinks and glances around the room. He looks uneasy, like a newborn calf on its first legs, and Clark is ready to catch him when he falls. Then he speaks, like he hasn't missed a thing. "Just as long as I don't have to sing."

When Clark goes home to Lex, he'll tell him about the pot because sometimes Lex likes to pretend he's in college, too. Clark won't tell him about the band because he's told enough secrets to know this isn't the right time to tell.


End file.
